


Of Constellations, Leitmotifs, and Petrichor

by AntonSweetie



Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gift Fic, Hacker AU, M/M, and they will always find each other, they're cute fight me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25153810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntonSweetie/pseuds/AntonSweetie
Summary: The three instances where Shang, Lang, and Lin remember who they were before. Reincarnation AU meets Mertiya's Hacker AU.
Relationships: Rin Setsu A | Lǐn Xuě Yā/Rou Fu You | Làng Wū Yáo, Rin Setsu A | Lǐn Xuě Yā/Rou Fu You | Làng Wū Yáo/Sho Fu Kan | Shāng Bù Huàn, Rin Setsu A | Lǐn Xuě Yā/Sho Fu Kan | Shāng Bù Huàn, Rou Fu You | Làng Wū Yáo/Sho Fu Kan | Shāng Bù Huàn
Kudos: 8





	1. Constellations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mertiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Don't You Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815377) by [Mertiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya). 



The trio was never really the kind for traditional dates. Movies and dinner didn’t fit in their weird schedules between Lang’s tour, Shang’s side jobs, and Lin’s… everything, really. They much preferred to do things on the fly whenever they were all available.

So when Lin suggested they all take a day off and go to a planetarium, Shang was reasonably suspicious. Lin didn’t do cutesy dates. Not without some ulterior motive. 

Then again, he surmised, when didn’t Lin have some weird ulterior motive?

As he and Lang watched Lin flit about in the museum section like a butterfly who had gotten caught in a grandmother’s worth of lace and ribbons, Shang sighed deeply. It was amazing how he’d gotten into this predicament in the first place. 

Lang caught onto his dip in excitement, gently tapping his shoulder and tilting his head. 

“I’m fine,” he explained and tore his gaze off of the pastel fashion butterfly that was accompanying them. “You doing alright? I know Lin’s energy is… a lot.”

Lang gave a laugh, easily replying: “He is nothing compared to Ling Ya. Besides,” Lang squeezed Shang’s hand, “I have you here as well. His energy can’t overwhelm your presence.” 

Well, wasn’t that a relief. 

Lin’s attention no longer consumed by one of the exhibits, he popped in front of them with a bright grin. “Can’t take your eyes of me, hm?” 

Shang snorted and rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever you say.” Sarcastic, perhaps, but it also held that small grain of truth that always found its way into his speech whenever he was trying to be mean to Lin. 

Lang stuck out his tongue and poked Lin in the forehead. “It’s hard not to look at you when you are wearing more layers than a wedding cake-- I mean, you’re not wrong.” Shang interpreted from rapid signing. 

Lin puffed up his chest, not even hiding the glee in his eyes. “Someone has to be the fashionable one amongst us. I swear, it’s like you walked into one department store six years ago Shang and then never looked back. At least Lang has some semblance of an aesthetic, even if it is garage-band-meets-a-shredder.”

“Lin, I swear--”

Their conversation was cut off by the sweet yet obviously robotic announcer’s voice over the planetarium loudspeaker reminding them that their showing was to begin soon and they really had to go find a seat before all the good ones were taken. 

Not wasting a moment, Lin grabbed both their hands and dragged them towards the double doors. Ever used to going along with his whims in some form or another, Lang and Shang found themselves on either side of him in uncomfortable planetarium seats before they had even noticed that as usual, he had placed himself into the center of attention. 

The lights dimmed as everyone settled in, and the young, bubbly guide began what was probably their tenth presentation of the day about the same thing.

Sparing a glance over, Lin was captivated by the lights. He seemed too comfortable just watching everything and could have almost been paying attention. Except that Shang thought he knew Lin well and he was likely just cooking up some scheme. 

Why do you think he brought us here? Lang signed from two seats over, echoing Shang’s thoughts. It isn’t like him to be in a normal place like this, is it? 

Glad for once that Lin’s seemingly endless font of knowledge didn’t extend to sign language yet, Shang signed back after a moment to think. I don’t know. But he seems to be quiet, at least. He paused. Maybe after everything that happened he just wants some normalcy.

Lang accepted his answer with a thoughtful nod and laid back in his seat to look up at the digital stars. 

Now with both his boyfriends comfortable and settled in, Shang could begin to enjoy this himself. He never really ventured outside of the city before, and even then, stars weren’t easily seen. Too much light pollution everywhere to see the sky at night. The most he had seen were a few stars here and there when he was on the highway and he hadn’t put much thought into it since. 

“And as you can see here,” the guide’s voice drifted over him as the electric sky above shifted into a new image, “this is what the sky would look like without human interference.” 

It was as if the world exploded around him. What were once tiny bits of light far away turned into ribbons and rivers - cascading over one another and competing for his attention. Galaxies swirled in the distance, and each little light gave rise to something in his chest. 

Something that hurt. Something that reminded him of an old, dusty memory he strained to remember. He could feel it. Furs ruffling his neck, calluses on his hands, blood dripping down into his mouth. 

He reached up to touch his lips, knowing that they once formed words that have since been lost to time. He could feel fire inside him, excited that he remembered. 

Remembered how he used these stars - not quite the same, but similar - to travel across lands forgotten. 

And he remembered. 

How an abused, lonely man became a phoenix and helped him strive to improve everything around him. 

How a sly fox became the only constant in his life despite passing in and out as he wished and never staying for too long. 

How a grumpy swordsman who never wanted to get involved in anything always took the first step. 

“Shang?” Two hands pressed against his shoulders as two voices called his name. “Shang, are you okay?”

He blinked through the haze, mirages of red and blue silks fluttering in and out of his vision. He could have sworn he saw feathers and crystals in the long lengths of hair in front of him, but when his eyes adjusted to the light, all he saw were the bows in Lin’s and the small pins in Lang’s with no silks in sight. Just cotton and leather. 

“What…” He rubbed his eyes, “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Lang’s eyebrows furrowed and he pulled his hand away.

“I agree with him for once,” Lin crossed his arms. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or two.”

Maybe that’s what he had seen. A ghost or a dream. Either way, it couldn’t have been real. The ache would subside with time once he got over it.

“I told you, I’m fine.” He stood up, rubbing the bridge of his nose out of -- habit? The motion caught him off guard and he shook his head. “Let’s go. I’m getting so hungry I think I spaced out during the presentation.” 

As he brushed past Lin and Lang, the duo shared a look conveying an entire conversation in a second before shrugging and jogging to catch up with their starving beast of a boyfriend.


	2. Leitmotifs

After the planetarium date, Shang had been acting weird. Not so weird that Lang thought he needed to go to the hospital or therapy, but weird enough that he had noticed. To anyone else, he was acting the same - right down to how he would sort-of-not-really be mad when someone messed up near him. But there was a change that it seemed only he noticed. He looked at them a little differently now. Still the same fondness, but it was deeper, somehow. Like he wasn’t just looking at them, but beyond them and into something deeper. Lang didn’t miss how it was just at their inner circle either. 

The puzzle bothered him. He knew people’s moods inside and out to an alarming degree. He knew good from bad, and when people were the smallest bit upset at him, even over text. Shang’s looks weren’t something he had seen before from anyone. The closest Lang could think of were the looks he had seen when he was young, from people who were in love for what may have well been eons and so strongly that death couldn’t separate them. 

But Shang was barely older than him. They didn’t have that kind of ageless love yet. It didn’t make any sense. 

So he sought answers in what made sense to him: music. The Asian History Museum a few blocks away was having a special exhibit on instruments, and he figured he would go and get some inspiration for his next song while he was ignoring the scratching feeling in the back of his head. 

Shang and Lin tagged along as well, despite him telling them multiple times that they really didn’t have to. He had Ling Ya with him and really, that’s all he needed. But Lin insisted on bothering him, and Shang insisted on being there as damage control, and Ling Ya demanded he come too because he quote “was totally just being paid to and really didn’t want to be there as a fourth wheel but definitely, totally had to because payroll said so also Lang almost got shot a few weeks ago” so now the one turned into four. 

At least the museum was big enough they could all explore how they wanted to. Shang wanted to check out the exhibit on swords and Lin wanted nothing more than to inspect Shang’s sword. To be fair, it wasn’t as if Shang reminding him sternly that they were in public did anything to dissuade that desire. They bickered among themselves in English until they came to what passed as an agreement, something about “waiting patiently for a reward.” Lang didn’t really catch all of it, but Shang promised him that they wouldn’t be kicked out. Probably. He didn’t sound too confident, but Lang trusted him to attempt to keep Lin’s chaos in some sort of line. 

So they parted into two groups, Shang and Lin going one direction while Ling Ya stayed by Lang. He had been avoiding listening to the conversation at all costs, as usual when he was stuck amid the lovebirds, but zeroed back into Lang when they were alone. “Alright then,” he shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets, nibbling on the last remains of a lollipop in lieu of the cigarette he wasn’t allowed to have inside the museum. “Where to first?”

Lang shifted his bag to the other shoulder, striding confidently towards his desired exhibit. The pamphlet - once translated through faithfully kind of correct google - said there were going to be professionals there who would actually show you how to play replicas. He needed to try them all out at any cost. 

With Ling Ya faithfully behind him, he dodged and weaved his way through the people and into the top mezzanine. There, in brilliant red and black English with various Asian languages around it, was a banner boldly displaying “Historic Instrument Exhibit.”

Ling Ya ruffled his hair, laughing under his breath at how Lang practically vibrated with excitement. “Man, calm down. They’re still going to be here even if you blink. I doubt you breathing will break anything, either.” 

Lang batted his hand away and huffed. “I know. I’m not a child.” 

“Your words, not mine.” 

As he opened his mouth for a snarky response back, a soft melody caught his attention. His entire body shifted towards the sound. A stringed instrument, played by a master. Quick riffs on gentle strings, multi-layered chords. Not a guitar, smaller. Thinner. Traditionally strung. Evoking imagery of snow-capped fields and tall mountains. Not a lute, but a cousin of it. 

A pipa. 

He slowed to a stop in front of the performer, their eyes closed as their fingers skillfully danced over the strings. They were in their own world, plucking out complex notes as if they were all by themself. They didn’t register the crowd in front of them - just smiling as they continued their playing. 

Lang glanced behind them, a brilliant red pipa matching the one they were playing on display. Even from this distance he could see the demon iconography on the neck, and the way the eyes of it seemed to glow brighter when he entered the room. 

He stepped around the crowd, eyes never leaving the display. Some people were nearby but he carefully excused himself between them. 

He reached a hand up towards the glass, not quite touching it but simply hovering over the pane that separated them. Lang’s fingers knew that instrument. They itched to play it again. They knew how he struggled to fix that one scratch that never quite fixed on the bottom of it. They remembered the way that the one middle peg never wanted to stay tuned because of how often he used it to shut up--

“Ling Ya.”

“Yeah?”

Lang blinked. The voice came from the wrong spot. Or… right spot? Ling Ya was always behind him. He was behind him right now. But he should have been speaking in front of him. 

Wait, no.

Lang ran his hand through his hair, blinking when his fingers didn’t get caught in it like they should. He was always wearing those metal finger covers so he could play at any moment. 

Except he didn’t. He never had worn anything of the sort. 

“Lang, you good?” Ling Ya’s shoulder gently knocked into his own, and Lang’s gaze tore into every detail he could. Ling Ya was still Ling Ya. Tall, annoying, loud, and stubbornly loyal. “You don’t have your I-am-in-the-composing-zone look. You have a I-am-on-another-plane-of-existence look.” 

“Like I have seen a ghost?”

He hummed quietly and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good way of putting it. Something about this thing bring up bad memories?”

Lang shook his head. “Not… bad memories.” He fidgeted with the pencil in his hand. “Have you ever felt like you’ve experienced something before? That you know you shouldn’t have but you do anyway?” 

Ling Ya shrugged. “Can’t say I have. Not recently anyway.” At Lang’s inquisitive look, he caved in and continued. “When I was a kid I used to have these weird dreams, okay? I was travelling with someone who needed me. I’d wake up knowing that he still needed me. Not thinking that, but knowing that. I grew out of it when I was a teenager though.” He raised a slit eyebrow. “Why? You getting the same feeling looking at this pipa?” 

“Mm.” Lang nodded. It was the exact same feeling. He even swore he saw flashes of red silk in place of his black hoodie when he looked back at the glass. He knew he shouldn’t remember these feelings. The betrayal and anger, and the sheer joy he felt when he could let go in order to save instead of hurt. 

His hand went up to his neck and he traced the lines of his voicebox. He wasn’t cursed anymore. 

Anymore?

“Maybe it’s your past life coming back.” Ling Ya hummed in thought. “I’ve heard that sometimes if you see something you used a ton in a past life, memories will come back. ‘S how they choose the Dali Lama, I think. I dunno if I put much stock in it, but hey. Who knows.” He shrugged, red eyes flashing with something that really shouldn’t have been recognition. “If urban legends about objects being so loved they gain a soul can be true, then why not past lives?”

Before Lang could ask what he meant by that, he ruffled Lang’s hair again and flicked his forehead. “C’mon. There’s still tons of instruments to check out. Don’t let this one hypnotize you into forgetting what you came here to do.” Ling Ya looped his arm around his charge and dramatically began marching another direction. “Let’s go! Your inspiration is in this dusty place somewhere! You just gotta find it!” 

Even though he went along with it, Ling Ya’s words never left his head. Between that and Shang’s actions, he was beginning to see what was really going on. 

Ling Ya was the only one who caught up to his thoughts fast enough, anyway. Shang and Lin always struggled to catch up with what was happening around them.

Some things never changed, even across the millennia.


	3. Petrichor

Lin was never out of the loop. Ever. He knew everything about everyone at every point in time. He was the master of predicting how people would act before they even realized it. It was a full-time job to be that manipulative and he worked overtime to be good at it. 

So why, in the actual fuck, could he not figure out his two boyfriends?

They were being weird. Not in a fun cute way either. In a “they have a secret language outside of Mandarin and Sign Language that no matter how hard I study I’ll never understand” way. He was getting better! Learning here and there ways to be able to better understand them when they switched languages, but now they just had to throw him a loop. And it wasn’t even actual words this time! Just glances back and forth!

He puffed an irritated cloud of smoke into the air, glaring at it until it dissipated. He wasn’t pouting. He absolutely was fine. People puzzles were his ultimate fix. He could figure it out one way or another. 

But Christ above was this whole situation aggravating. 

Apparently, it was aggravating to the point that it was written on his face so strongly that even Shang could tell he was annoyed. 

“That’s it,” said dense sexy idiot swiped Lin’s vape pen away, glaring down at his obviously perfectly languidly content boyfriend. “You’re getting out of this apartment one way or another.” 

Lin pouted up at him and reached for his pen only to have it held even further away by sheer height difference. “You’re kicking me out? Don’t you have a heart?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Shang pinched the bridge of his nose, ignoring how Lin was rubbing their chests together to get his precious nicotine back. “You’ve been in a bad mood for a week now. You’re only going to make yourself feel worse if you stay inside all day.”

“Oh? And what, pray tell, are you suggesting?” 

“We’re going to spend a day doing whatever you want. And before you even breathe a word, it’s a normal, family friendly date. We are not fucking outside.” 

Well, there went one perfectly good idea. 

“Fiiiiiiiiine.” Lin wrapped his arms tightly around Shang. “Then I demand you both treat me to coffee and shopping. It’s the only thing that can soothe my soul and heal my aching heart.”

He could practically feel the way Shang’s eyes rolled fondly. Especially since he was not-that-subtly running his hands through Lin’s hair. “I think we could handle that. Just don’t go too overboard.” 

Going overboard wasn’t the problem. In fact, they hadn’t even made it to shopping yet and the universe conspired to ruin his day even more. Where once sunny skies ruled came the loudest, most obnoxious thunderstorm to ever grace humanity. Lightning gleefully flashed as thunder mockingly rumbled above. They didn’t even have time to make it to the bus before their clothes were all sorts of soaked. Shang and Lang were alright, having been smart enough to wear dark clothes near constantly, but Lin’s general aesthetic of pastels and whites weren’t faring so well. 

It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s chests through their shirts too. He enjoyed the way they stared at him, but could do without the injustice of the whole situation. 

“It seems that it will be some minutes before the next bus comes,” Lang locked his phone and pocketed it again, “so we should wait.”

“I dunno. We could make it. It’s not raining that badly.” 

“If we are patient, we will be less wet.” 

Lin plopped himself down on the graffitied bench, crossing one leg over the other and pulling out his vape. “I agree with Lang. While I am sure you both are enjoying seeing me like this, I, for one, would rather wait for the next bus than risk it.” 

Lang settled in next to Lin, mimicking his cute gaze up at the remaining member of their trio. Surely Shang couldn’t resist two cute sets of eyes batting up at him from under delicate lashes.

Based on his intense sigh and how he barely resisted pacing, he couldn’t. 

“If the bus isn’t here on time, I’m booking it.” 

“Do what you please, Sir Shang.” The pet name flowed from Lin’s tongue easily, like a familiar drink after a long day. He leaned back against the smooth plexiglass and closed his eyes. “It isn’t the first time you’ve been caught with me in a rainstorm, and it surely won’t be the last.”

The silence went on for too long and Lin cracked an eye open. Both of them were staring at him as if he’d grown three heads in the span of one second. 

So he stared back. 

“What?”

Shang cleared his throat. “Nothing. It’s just--”

“Just what?”

They shared that look they had been sharing for the past week and then they stared at Lin. Well, not quite at him. Through him. Like they were seeing some part of him that he couldn’t. 

He didn’t like it. 

He could’ve complained, he could’ve been dramatic, but it really, honestly wasn’t worth it for now. Fine. Let them keep their secrets. Lin huffed and leaned even more into the plexiglass - as much as he could manage. He even threw in a salty huff for good measure.

Shang must have felt bad, because soon after his little tantrum, Lin felt the warmth of Shang settle in next to him. Wet fabric to wet fabric, but warm body to warm body. He could hear Lang’s soft breathing beside him, and he almost purred at the feeling of Lang’s hand in his hair. Even if he was still annoyed, receiving attention like this every once in a while was, in a word… nice. It made him definitely not feel all squishy and gooey inside. He didn’t feel like that at all. He didn’t feel glad they were in his life again, and relieved he found them once more. 

He could relax a little now. They were together again. Even if it took them ages, they were back. 

Wait. 

Hang on a second. 

Lin scrambled upright, mind racing a thousand miles an hour as he spun to face his two companions. He was here - with them. The more he stared at them, the more the mirage of brown leathers and red silks wavered in his vision. Shang-- he had been wearing that silly feathered headpiece, hadn’t he? And Lang’s scarf kept getting in his mouth and--

His breathing stopped. They were just in their street clothes. Shang’s faded green shirt was slowly drying and Lang’s leather pants shone with rainwater. There were no feathered headpieces or scarves in sight. 

But he knew it. He knew them -- not the them now, but the them then and all these memories overlapping were confusing him and crowding for attention. The long roads ahead, the near death experiences, the blood and fights, the endless schemes and victories and bitter losses, and amid the clamor and chaos came one finite thought.

Lin’s hands shook as the realization tore his brain from his body and let his heart finally roam about. He had promised them so very, very long ago. So long ago that the magic in his words was real. He had sworn an oath for once in his awful, miserable life and by all that was holy in all of time and space, he kept it. 

“No matter what happens to us, no matter how far apart we are, we will always find each other.” 

Lin echoed the promise in a tongue long forgotten by the world, and in his mutterings came a spark between them. The look that Shang and Lang gave each other made sense. He knew those looks - the same they were giving him now. They weren’t of mischief or to annoy him. They were waiting for him to come back. 

But they didn’t wait to hug him so strongly he nearly collapsed into a puddle of Lin and actual water. 

And for the first time in a millenia, Lin hugged back just as strongly, not even bothering to hide the tears that mimicked the rain outside their small shelter.


End file.
